Iris Lazzareschi

judgment

WORDS & PHOTO: IRIS LAZZARESCHI

The first time I saw The Sliver Couloir, off of Nez Perce in Grand Teton National Park, I added it to my to-do list. Most people ‘our type’ feel that way when they see aesthetic lines like The Sliver. We patiently bide our time waiting for the right conditions to take shape. In late March it was looking like we could possibly give The Sliver a go. So I headed out with four friends in hopes of pow turns, knowing full well that the conditions might turn us around but not knowing that our actions would soon be scrutinized.

We arrived at Shadow Peak to see two other split-boarders already on their way up. We just waited, watched and ate lunch, letting time slip away. Instead of going straight up the gut, the snowboarders ascended the side on loose gravel and sugar snow – not the normal route for this line. Naturally, we watched and judged and could not figure out what they were thinking. Eventually they were in a position where they could not go up any further. Two-thirds up The Sliver, they dropped in and it looked good.

Now it was our turn. It was about 1 p.m., which is late, but conditions were holding and the snow was cold. We did about six switchbacks and then began boot packing.

The snow was so cold and deep it was more like we were digging through the mountain rather than going up. Wishing I could teleport my verts from my tulle box, it started to make sense why the riders before us took the experimental, untraditional route up the rocky side. Having their boot pack as an option, my group discussed if we should try it. The group split and a couple of us ventured that way for about 50 feet before

determining it was the less favorable option. The slow and steady way up the deep snow was the right choice.

There was no movement, no sloughing, just one concern: the heat of the day. We discussed this danger and I felt comfortable continuing up the hike because the snow was still cold, the line was in the shade and the snow wasn’t consolidating. Two friends in the group decided they weren’t feeling it with the time of day and temps. The rest of us felt comfortable continuing forward.

Getting to the top third of the couloir, conditions were safe, almost too safe, snow was solid, making me more nervous that the whole width was firm snow and we’d be scraping instead of slashing.

At the top was an epic granite-framed picture of the Middle Teton.

My friend who was denied this line three previous times due to conditions dropped in first. He did a ski cut across the top and ended up in a complete white room, nothing under his feet moved, only the loose powder that had plumed in the air. To say the least, it was flipping epic! He had about a dozen full white rooms, and there was still enough for the other two of us to get fully tubed as well!

It was the most pleasant surprise of my whole season; the best day in a decade.

A week later while I was riding the tram my friend showed me an article on his phone –double take! It was a photo of my friends and I hiking up The Sliver. At first I was proud and excited. But as I continued to read the article I realized it was criticizing every move we made, from an outsider’s perspective; someone who didn’t know us or know the discussion that had transpired. I was bummed. I felt thrown under the bus.

Reading this judgment-riddled article, however, did put me in check, because while we were having lunch that day, we watched the snowboarders before us and promptly judged them. The only difference is we didn’t blog about it.

Now there was a good side to the article, that it was teaching and warning people to be more cautious in the backcountry with route choices, conditions, etc. When I look at the article as an educational piece it’s way less offensive. But the level of judgment was a bit too much. As a snow community, we need to know where to draw the line. It’s almost like gossip at the hair salon when avalanches happen. For years we analyze them. Many of us have lost friends and usually more than one to avalanches and accidents that happen in the backcountry. But too often we criticize the dead, saying, “Oh the conditions were this or that; they should’ve known.” These discussions have risen a lot in the last few years with multiple deadly avalanches taking industry friends/co-workers. Many of them experienced and respected skiers and boarders.

Just this summer in South America, a friend of mine, big mountain rider Liz Daley, died in a huge avalanche. The same day pro-skiers J.P. Auclair and Andreas Fransson lost their lives in the same range, just 50 miles away.

27

The fact is we will never be able to tell the dead man’s story and people will make their own choices whether we criticize them or not. The energy put into judging others’ choices is not going to change the choices made. We can use our friends’ mistakes to learn but there’s a fine line; we don’t need to judge and harshly criticize each other as if we are smarter, better, more conservative, don’t make mistakes, or are immune to accidents. The truth is people will make their own choices, and the truth doesn’t care if you criticize, analyze or even believe it, it’s not changing. il

Displaced from her home in Lake Tahoe and in search of snow, Iris Lazzareschi ended up in Jackson Hole where she has been filming and training for the FWQ and SFS freeriding competitions. @IrisLazz